Velvet Buzzsaw (2019)
(Netflix Streaming, December 2020) I’m weirdly interested in the modern art market: the intersection of art and irrational investment is almost too weird to be true, but the dollar figures speak from themselves. For writer-director Dan Gilroy, it was perhaps the most logical follow-up to Nightcrawler’s local news insanity. In Velvet Buzzsaw, Jake Gyllenhaal plays an art critic who becomes involved in the posthumous discovery of an outsider artist, and who realizes far too late that the work is cursed in lethal ways. Unfortunately, there are two films in Velvet Buzzsaw and one is far more successful than the other. The satirical look at the modern art industry is on-target and could have sustained the film on its own: The complex ecology of artists, critics, gallery owners, investors, museum curators, “investment consultants” and assistants to all of these is very well portrayed, and the film isn’t afraid to blend whimsy with satire – seeing the protagonist having an opinion on every-single-thing never stops being funny, but the script’s fast-paced rhythm manages to skewer nearly everyone in sight. (By the time a gory murder scene is hilariously misinterpreted as an installation, I was cackling aloud.) Weirdly enough, though, the story’s steady and complete slide into horror is not as successful – and I say that as someone who’s far friendlier to genre material than most, and who often shoves liminal works into a supernatural interpretation. What bothered me most is a common failing of non-horror writers who decide to tackle the genre: an absence of clear rules as to what we’re dealing with. The horror in Velvet Buzzsaw is more expressionist than logical: There are no limits to what demonic possession can or cannot do, and that gives an arbitrary quality to the narrative when even smart characters can’t adequately anticipate and protect themselves against fatality. Maybe that’s part of the point, but I don’t think so – while I can appreciate an ironic finale as much as anyone (and Velvet Buzzsaw has a really good one that ties back into its title), there’s a mushy dreamlike quality to the third act of the film that could have been much improved had it been overlaid on a coherent foundation: when everything is a dream, the stakes are lowered, and when the plan is to kill everyone but the bespectacled assistant (a very cute Natalia Dyer), then the horror remains a joke. Gilroy being Gilroy and friendly with half of Hollywood, the talent assembled here often outstrips the material: Nightcrawler star Gyllenhaal can’t do any wrong here, Gilroy’s wife Rene Russo is well cast as a galley owner, Zawe Ashton makes a good impression as an assistant and John Malkovich has a superfluous but enjoyable turn as a cranky artist. I may be disappointed by Velvet Buzzsaw’s uneven control over its material, but I did like the result quite a bit despite its imperfections: it’s funny, dark, smart, fast-paced and as visually interesting as some of the pieces it showcases.